The Right Side of Wrong
by Eve Davidson
Summary: Craig goes to Sean's apartment after Joey asks him for rent. CraigSean.
1. Chapter 1

Joey ran down the list of all the expenses he, Craig, had cost him. And of course he wouldn't ask Angie to pay rent or help pay for food or hydro or anything because Angie was his daughter, his real daughter, not just some step-kid.

Craig was mad because he'd thought it wasn't that way, that Joey thought of him as a part of the family even if he didn't always feel like it. So he left, and called Sean on his cell.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Craig said when Sean finally answered after the fourth ring.

"Nothing," Sean said, and heard a tone in Craig's voice he had heard before. He remembered when Craig had called him that time in ninth grade, his father ready to beat him, and Craig was talking to him and throwing his stuff in a bag while his father beat on his door with a golf club or something. He sounded the same now, just less panicked.

"Listen, uh, can I come over?" Craig said, that note of desperation in his voice that made Sean's stomach twist.

"Sure, of course you can,"

Sean had an apartment now, a nice haven for those friends of his who needed a place to go. But since that day when Craig called him all upset in ninth grade, he hadn't needed him like that again. Craig had Joey, and Ashley sometimes or Manny, Jimmy and Spinner and Marco. And that was fine with him. He was glad, really. But all these years he felt like if Craig was ever desperate, really desperate again, he wouldn't go to them.

He talked to him, unable or unwilling to find out what was wrong. But it was enough just to be on the phone, to hear the almost panic starting to leave Craig's voice. A knock on the door, and when he opened it it was Craig, still on the phone with him, the tiny silver cell phone against his ear, and Craig smiled. Sean opened the door wide and let him in.

He had a bag packed again, the same one he had with him that day when they were at the train track, the sun shining off those metal tracks, hurting his eyes if he looked at it too long. And the same leather jacket, black and cracking, only it fit him better now, his shoulders were wider and he was taller. Sean shook his head, funny he hadn't really noticed how much Craig had changed since then, taller and older looking, something in his eyes and his expressions.

Craig tossed his bag into the corner, snapped the phone shut and slipped it into his pocket. Sean eyed him, wondering if he had any bruises this time, but he knew Joey wouldn't beat him. Besides, in a fight Joey might lose. He wanted to badger Craig and find out what was wrong, why he'd packed a bag and left again, but he knew it didn't work like that with him. He'd tell him if and when he wanted to.

"Hungry?" Sean said, stirring some macaroni and cheese he'd been cooking. Craig shook his head. Sean shrugged and dumped some of it in a bowl for himself, sat on the couch and started eating. Craig sat next to him, still in his jacket. His hair and the jacket were wet, it was raining. It made his hair look darker, and curlier.

Sean put the empty bowl onto the old coffee table and put his feet up next to it. The T.V. was on, providing a comfortable babble of some sit-com. Craig stared at it, looking on the verge of crying.

"You can take your jacket off, you know," Sean said, and Craig looked at him, the shine of tears in his eyes making his eyes look almost green.

"Yeah, okay," He took it off and tossed it into the corner with his bag. The sit-com gave way to some entertainment news show that made little sense to Sean. He sighed, looked at the way the overhead light shined on Craig's hair. Sean stood up and snapped the light off. Sat back down but a little closer to Craig, and he could feel the heat from Craig's body, felt his arm against his. He looked at him in the dim light, lit now only by the flickery blue glow of the television screen. Silence. He wouldn't tell him what it was and Sean couldn't take it anymore.

"What is it? What happened?"

Craig looked at him, the pain in his eyes making Sean feel angry at whoever had hurt him.

"Nothin',"

"C'mon, you don't pack a bag and come all the way out here when it's nothing. What is it?"

Craig didn't say anything but he looked like he was thinking of saying something.

"Did Joey hit you?"

"No. Joey doesn't do that… but he might as well have. I'm just a burden to him. I mean, who can blame the guy? My dad dies and he's basically stuck with me-"

"It isn't like that," Sean said.

"How would you know? It is like that. Joey listed off to me all the money he has to spend because of me, and it's just obvious…" Craig trailed off, tears in his eyes but not falling, shining just like that night in the cemetery when he finally admitted that his dad had been hitting him.

Sean put his arm around him and Craig sank against him, starting to cry for real now, his shoulders shaking. Sean held him and let him cry, and he felt the silky feeling of Craig's still damp hair against his cheek.

"Shhhh," Sean said softly, and kissed Craig's cheek, feeling the slight roughness of it where he shaves. Craig's eyes were closed, and he turned toward Sean and kissed him on the lips. Sean closed his eyes and kissed him back, flicking his tongue slightly with his own, trailing his hands down Craig's arms and to his back, feeling the clothes rub against the skin, the muscles tensing as he touched him.

The T.V. babbled on and Sean kissed him again, feeling his soft lips and the kiss was stronger, different than kissing girls. Ran his hands through the dark damp curls, felt Craig's breathing start to speed up. He realized he'd wanted to do this ever since that day in ninth grade when they sat on the railroad tracks and Craig fanned the money his father had given him, asked Sean to come with him.


	2. Chapter 2

That day was still so clear in his mind, a flashbulb memory. The way those rocks around the tracks looked, jagged and white and bleached by the sun. Craig's jagged desperateness, the money in his hand, the crazy light in his eyes. He said he was going to B.C. He might as well have said the moon.

Sean liked it, liked being the solid one for once. Liked someone else's desperateness flapping around him, liked being the one in control. That day, he couldn't help noticing how big Craig's eyes were and such an odd color, that dark hazel. Couldn't help noticing how his shoulder blades poked at the material of his button-up shirt, how narrow his hips were. The cloud of dust from the sand and dirt he kicked up as he ran off, but before he did Sean had liked the feeling of Craig in his arms.

Kissing him now, so sweet because of the years he had to wait. His hair silky and soft under his hand. He was afraid Craig would pull away, the gay thing getting in the way. Sean closed his eyes, the kiss softer now. He peeked at Craig, and his eyes were lightly closed, his long lashes resting against his cheeks.

The gay thing. It all had to be so rigidly defined. He had never seen some guy and wanted to do anything sexual with him. Just Craig. His longing for him defied gender, defied labels.

And Craig was relaxing, the tenseness going out of his muscles. Sean had a flash of a thought to do more, to push it, to go as far as he could with him. He was surprised at the thought but felt the intense longing looking at him. His white skin and dark hair, long limbs, sad eyes. Every nerve ending reached out for him.

"Craig? Feeling better?" Sean said, and Craig was breathing deeply and contentedly, but a fearful confusion was in his eyes.

"Uh, yeah," he shifted, sat up more. There seemed to be nowhere to go from here. Sean recognized this, that Craig might bolt, and there would be nothing he could do.

"Gonna stay the night?" Sean said, eyeing the full black bag he'd brought, and Craig licked his lips, and the silence spun on far too long.

"Yeah," Craig said, his voice gruff. Sean nodded, sat back. Thought about the years Craig had been away. Still at the same school but away, always with Jimmy, Spinner, Marco. Maybe because those three never knew the real truth of the situation with his father, never knew the lengths he was willing to go to to get away.

When they'd all stayed with him at Joey's house that weekend he saw things Spinner and Marco didn't see. Saw the breathless fear in Craig when Joey said he'd invited the whole school over. Saw the scattered relief when he saw that Joey had only been kidding.

He'd let him go in one way. Traveled his path and let Craig screw up with girls and start a band and push the past further into the past. Sometimes in the halls at school, going from one class to the next, their eyes would meet. There was this mutual respect and understanding that he'd never experienced with anyone else. He wanted to say something sometimes, but was never able to work up the nerve. Craig would walk on, start talking to Ashley or Manny or Marco or whoever, and Sean would feel the cold. But it was okay. He knew he'd come back someday.

He dug out the extra blanket and pillow from the closet and helped Craig make up the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

It drove him crazy, the thought of Craig sleeping in the next room, warm and sleepy under the extra blanket. Sean kept rolling over, grabbing the pillow and hugging it roughly. Sleep wouldn't come.

Minutes ticking off on the digital clock, the bright red numbers burning against his closed eyelids. It was late, late. He didn't want to wake Craig up if he was sleeping. Nothing to do but toss and turn.

He'd managed to fall into a light sleep, the blankets twisted and kicked down around his feet. The streetlight light burning into his room full force like the sun, he didn't have any curtains. He woke up the second he heard his bedroom door creak open, and Craig stood there, his hair sticking up and in curls, wrapped up in the blanket.

"Hey," Craig said, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes only half open. Sean stared at him, noticing how the faint light reflected off his pale skin.

"Hey," Sean echoed, and looked steadily at him. Those full lips, always kind of pouty like some model. Sean sucked in his breath.

"Do you mind, uh, do you mind if I sleep in here?" Craig said, his eyes still half closed, the blanket slipping off his shoulders and he kept grabbing at it.

"What? Uh, no. Of course not. I don't mind," Sean moved over, leaving a space on his bed for him, and he felt his heart speed up, beating crazily, trying to escape. Craig got in the bed, turned his face away from Sean, the light casting his face into extremes of light and shadow, like those stark line drawings made with ink and metal pens.

He was sleeping, maybe. Sean couldn't tell. His breathing was deep and even, his mouth just slightly open. His chest rose and fell, and somewhere along the way he had taken his shirt off. Sean was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, afraid to disturb him in any way. Touching him was out of the question.

Oh, but he wanted to. How he wanted to. He wanted to caress that smooth, pale skin. He wanted to feel his lips with his own. He wanted to change the rate of his breathing, the rate of his pulse. Wanted to whisper things into his ear.

The longing was acute and Sean narrowed his eyes, looking at Craig. Sleeping? He thought he probably was, and the longing didn't matter. He closed his eyes and if he wouldn't sleep he'd at least pretend. This endless night, the clock showing him only minutes had passed when it felt like an hour, two hours. Sigh. He could feel the heat coming off of Craig in waves, could hear his breathing, felt the vibrations of every slight shift.

Sleeping again, the lightest sleep, just barely under the surface. Felt Craig's arm across his chest, afraid to disturb the weight of it. Wanting to kiss him so much, to taste that sweet taste of him again.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, weak morning light coming in through his one window, Sean stared at Craig. His hair was standing up in spikes, in curls. They were sitting at his little kitchen table eating cereal, and the blanket was still wrapped around Craig's bare shoulders, slipping off.

They didn't talk about the kiss but Sean could still taste it on his lips. Maybe it had just been a freak one time thing. He watched as Craig spooned the cereal into his mouth.

"Going back to Joey's today?" Sean said, and he saw Craig grab the blanket as it slipped again and yank it back up.

"I don't know. I guess I have to go back. But I don't want to. I mean, rent? I thought things were different," He shook his head and the look in his eyes made Sean want to protect him.

"Maybe it's not all that bad," Sean said, and his cereal was gone. He spooned some milk into his mouth, all sweetened and discolored by the cereal.

"No, it is. I just don't belong anywhere,"

Sean looked right into Craig's eyes when he said that, his incredible dark hazel light brown eyes. He licked his lips, wanted to say that no, he did belong somewhere. But he said nothing.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Craig said, standing up. He carried his bowl to the sink, rinsed it out, washed it.

"You didn't have to wash it," Sean said, pushing his bowl to the side.

"It's okay. I don't mind. I mean, you let me stay. The least I can do is wash my dishes,"

Sean squinted at him, his elbows up on the table. He wondered if Craig's need to be unobtrusive, helpful, no trouble, if this came from living with his father or Joey.

While he took a shower Sean sat on the couch, the T.V. on but muted, and he looked at the red mute sign in the corner of the screen and listened to the spray of the shower. He imagined the water hitting Craig's naked body.

The sunlight got brighter by inches, and it stretched over the window sill and onto the wall. Sean closed his eyes as the shower pounded away in the next room. He didn't want him to go. He'd missed him all these years and if he left when would he ever see him again?

Craig opened the bathroom door, a billow of steam following him out. He had on jeans but no shirt, and he was drying his hair with a towel. Sean tried not to look, to make it not so obvious that all he wanted to do was look.

He pulled on a shirt and socks, slipped into his sneakers and bent over to tie them. Sean looked at Craig's damp curls, at his lips, full and red. He licked his own.

Craig shoved his clothes from last night into the black bag, shrugged into his leather jacket. Sean blinked slowly, unmuted the T.V. and listened to the horrible squawk of some early morning talk show host.

"I'm gonna go," Craig said, his bag on the floor next to him. He stood by the door. Sean stood up, went over to him.

"Okay," Sean said, his voice thick. He pulled Craig into a rough hug, felt Craig squeeze him back.

"I don't want you to go," Sean whispered into his ear, and he turned his face toward him. Those eyes, so close up, Craig's eyes were beautiful. Sean stared into them, lost, lost. Then they closed, and he kissed him again, tasting his tongue with his tongue, feeling the smoothness of his teeth. It was a hungry kiss, he couldn't get enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Two kisses. Sean shut the door after he'd watched Craig go, watched the rhythm of his walk, the sunlight on his clothes. Felt the longing following him. Two kisses was all it was. He'd wanted it to be more.

That day in the beginning of eighth grade, ninth for Craig, the longing was undefined. He couldn't have said he wanted to kiss Craig, he'd wanted to touch his soft white skin and taste his lips. He hadn't known. He just knew he liked being with him, liked the emotions that played out in his eyes. He responded to Craig's fear with lust and hadn't even known. But he knew now.

He went back to the couch and the horrible squawk of the T.V. Some anorexic blond woman with oddly straightened hair and perky breasts was smiling like a gargoyle at her guest. Sean flipped her away, settling on some monster trucks crushing regular trucks in some arena on a cloudy day.

He supposed it would go back to what it was. Glimpses in the halls at school, infrequent eye contact. Seeing him come from gym class, the muscles of his legs visible beneath the shiny uniform shorts in school colors. Sean sighed, wishing he'd dared to do more when Craig was here, wishing he'd dared to touch him when he was in his bed.

He could hardly wait for school. Maybe he could talk to Craig more than he had, maybe they could have lunch together. Maybe. It wasn't fair that Marco and Jimmy and Spinner got to have him all to themselves. He'd make the effort in school. He vowed.

This day was proving to be long. He resisted his urges to call Craig. He couldn't break his cool, he couldn't appear desperate. Besides, they had a pattern. When he was in trouble Craig came to him. He closed his eyes and pictured him at the train tracks, the dust getting in his curly hair, the manic desperate look in his eyes.

"Come with me," he'd pleaded, "we can look out for each other," Sean wished now that he'd gone.

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He walked into the school like he'd never been there before, looking around for Craig. It had been so long since he'd talked to him at school that he didn't know his habits. Did he hang out outside before school or inside? Was he all over some girl on the steps, kissing her and caressing her hair? Or was he playing soccer or basketball with Jimmy or Spinner?

Sean watched the crowd of kids coming and going through the front glass doors and none of them were Craig. Patience wasn't quite the virtue with him that it had been. He waited, feeling nervous, feeling a glassy kind of excitement that was like being high.

Then he saw him. Tall, the black leather jacket, the school bag slung casually over one shoulder. His faded baggy jeans dragging on the floor around his sneakers, the ends of the jeans frayed and ripped. Sean screwed up his courage and walked over to him.

"Hey, Craig," he said, and Craig looked over at him and smiled slightly.

"Hey, man," Craig said.

"Did you go back to Joey's?" Sean looked up at him, Craig was at least two or three inches taller than he was. He gazed at the pretty color of his eyes, and inside they looked darker, almost brown.

"Yeah,"

"How'd it go?" Sean was hoping it hadn't gone well, so maybe he'd come and stay with him again and they could do more. He could touch him in all the places he'd neglected last time.


	6. Chapter 6

It doesn't matter, he thought as he walked away. Walked down the school hallway, the sun shining in like huge slabs of yellow. So he went back to Joey's. He'd known that would happen all along, so why did it matter?

Sean went about the business of forgetting, of not letting it matter. It wasn't a rational desire. He wanted to kiss Craig again, he wanted him to come to his house and stay for good. He wanted to wake up with him every morning and eat cereal and ignore the T.V. He wanted to live his life with him, and he knew it was unrealistic.

Craig had asked him to go with him to British Columbia in grade eight. He had asked him that when he was running away from being beaten every week. He wasn't in his right mind. He had kissed him when he was running away again, leaving Joey because Joey had hurt him almost the same as his father had, making him feel like he wasn't real and didn't belong. Did his affection always have to be tied to trauma? Couldn't he turn to him when things were good and say, 'Sean, I choose you,' The sun trailed him down the hallway, shining off the lockers and the polished floor. No. When things were good for Craig he never talked to him at all. He would kiss girls and hang out with Marco and Spinner and Jimmy because, because, well…he shook his head again. He didn't know.

They had one class in common this semester, one that he was good at and Craig was bad at. Shop. Sean knew cars like a mother knew her child. Craig was clueless, not knowing what any one twisted metal thing did from the next thing. Sean feared and dreaded and looked forward to this class, wanting to see him again, knowing his desire was fated to be frustrated. If looking and being near him was all he was to be left with, then that was what he would take.

In the overalls, his cheek smeared with grease where he had inadvertently wiped it, Sean couldn't help noticing him. He couldn't help noticing the dark curly hair that spilled over his forehead and obscured his eyes. He couldn't help remembering the taste of his lips.

"Man, where are you?" Jay said, snapping his fingers in front of Sean's face. Sean snapped his head back, cleared his cloudy eyes, and focused on Jay but he was still as far away.

He tried to screw up his courage to talk to Craig when the class spilled out the door, but he lost his nerve. He watched him walk away, toward his locker or another class or Ashley, whatever it might be while Jay babbled in his ear and he couldn't think to be grateful for the distraction.

Days went by this way, small bits of conversations with Craig before homeroom and during shop class never amounting to much, never amounting to what he wanted, was beginning to yearn for. Craig had used him during his crisis and discarded him, and it didn't seem to hurt like this back in grade eight. But it hurt now. He felt the side of his bed and his lips grow cold for want.

One day after school he shrugged Jay off and walked toward Joey's house, not because he wanted to. He wanted to go home and watch T.V. and play video games but he felt compelled to come here, to try something he'd never tried before.

His knock at the door felt loud, felt huge, but he had to try several times to knock loud enough to be heard. Things were becoming amplified in his amped up state. Angie opened the door and stood staring up at him, and she was taller and older than he remembered.

"Hey, uh, is Craig here?" he said, and Angie nodded her dark head and looked toward the garage.

"He's in the garage," she said, and Sean knew that Joey wasn't home.

"Some babysitter, huh?" he said, and Angie gave him a puzzled look. He shrugged, and left her there, and headed toward the garage. He'd never been in there, it wasn't the hang out place back when Craig was in grade nine and just moved in. His room was barely a hang out place then, just a narrow twin bed and a few clothes hanging in the closet and some CD's scattered across the dresser top. He was sure his room had changed now, had acquired posters and little snapshots of Craig and whoever, Ashley and all his friends. He was sure the closet was packed with the faded baggy jeans he wore and the T-shirts with the rock bands or little sayings on them, and his converse sneakers. He was sure it was filled with all the things he had glimpses of in the hallways at school.

He could hear the strumming of a guitar, and the notes were melancholy and full of pain, and he realized that the pain didn't go away for Craig. Maybe it just abated for a bit. He listened for another minute, feeling pulled along, and then he broke the spell and knocked on the garage door.


	7. Chapter 7

Sean stepped into the garage and Craig stopped playing the guitar, looked up at him. Sean swallowed hard, not knowing what he expected to get out of coming here, not knowing if he was welcome, not knowing. He cleared his throat, shoved his hands in his pockets, didn't know what to say.

"Hey," Craig said softly, kind of gazing at him.

"Hey," Sean said back, and he could feel this almost physical block preventing him from being able to express himself. He'd never been good at it. Things seemed to build up in him until there were no words.

"Want to have a seat?" Craig said, and Sean nodded, sat in the chair near the couch where Craig was sitting. Well, he'd invited him in at least. It was a start, maybe.

Sean cringed at the idea of small talk, but he couldn't say what he wanted to say, what he'd come here to say. He wanted to tell Craig he missed him, that he wanted to be there for him even when things were good, that he wanted to kiss him again. There was no way to say that. And what would Craig's reaction be? Reluctance? Revulsion? Had the kisses they shared just been in the moment, a by-product of Craig being in crisis?

"So what's up?" Craig said, still looking at him, and Sean took that as a good sign.

"Nothing," Sean said, sighing, knowing sometimes there was no where to go but to small talk, evasion, avoidance. But still they sat in silence, and Sean was aware that he had no idea what was going on in Craig's head. He looked at him, his dark curly hair, the leather jacket, the way his fingers rested lightly on the guitar strings.

He wouldn't make a move, he knew that. He wouldn't take those fingers and gently touch his lips to them. He wouldn't touch his dark hair, brushing it lightly from his forehead. This wasn't like that night at his apartment, Craig coming to his room half naked and sleepy. There was no way in.

He knew he was afraid of rejection and wouldn't risk it. He knew what he wanted and that it was impossible to get. It was just, he had never felt this way around anybody else before. Not Emma and not Ellie. He had felt things around them, stirrings and desires and emotions, but it was nothing compared to what he felt around Craig. He closed his eyes and thought about that afternoon in grade eight again, the intensity that had crackled around Craig's every move. He had never felt so alive.

So he sat there, not saying anything, and he listened as Craig started to play the guitar again, the same melancholy tune he'd been strumming when he came to the door.

"Are things okay now?" Sean said, breaking the silence, his voice cracking on the words, and he wasn't entirely sure what he meant. He kind of meant were things okay for Craig with Joey, and he kind of meant more.

Craig stopped playing the guitar again, his fingers pausing in mid-strum, and he looked down when he answered.

"Yeah,"

Sean nodded, feeling so caught up in his inability to express himself. He should be braver, more willing to risk rejection, but he felt afraid. He felt breathless. He watched Craig stand up, watched him walk to the corner of the garage and lean the guitar against a wall, watched him come back and stand in front of him. This close he could see the individual threads in his jeans, the faded softness of his cotton shirt under the stiff black leather of his jacket. He could smell cologne and clothes detergent and old leather and fainter garage smells of oil and car cleaners. He felt Craig's hands on his shoulders and he looked up at him.

"Yeah," Craig repeated, "things are okay,"

And when Craig leaned down to kiss him gently on the lips he closed his eyes and felt that, too.


	8. Chapter 8

The kiss went on, and Craig dropped to his knees between Sean's legs, and they kept kissing. Sean felt like he was drinking it in, that he was a man with an endless supply of water after years of being in the desert. He put his hands on Craig's shoulders and ran them down his biceps, thinking of the bruises that must have once been on his arms and everywhere else.

Craig made little sighing and moaning sounds as they kissed, and Sean liked that. It made something pull inside of him, some heightened desire. He moved his hands back up to Craig's shoulders and then down his back, and he felt Craig's hands resting on his knees.

He remembered after that night in the cemetery how he had thought of their basketball game, how he had crashed into Craig and Craig's reaction, the obvious pain in his eyes and how he looked like he might cry, and how he hadn't understood it at all then. The cemetery night made it all clear, the tearful admittance of being beaten. He thought of what must have happened to him, and he's seen some of that when he lived in the trailer park with his parents in Wasaga. He could see it so clearly, Craig cringing away in fear of his father, and he could see the belt in his father's hands, the raised fists and the kicks that must have rained down on him. He thought of how he wanted to go back to that time and protect him, make it all okay for him.

He thought of the intervening years, how he had only seen Craig sporadically. He saw him here and there, saw him at Jimmy's drunken party at the fancy condo in grade eight, saw him in the halls and in shop class. It wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough.

He could feel Craig's tongue with his own, he could feel the bones of his shoulders and his back underneath his hands. He could feel Craig's hands as they slid from his knees up his thighs.

Did he want some other trauma to happen to Craig just so he could run to him again? Did he want to kiss the salty tears away and brush his dark bangs off his forehead? Did he want to apply ice to dark purple bruises and black eyes? Did he want to see the fear in his eyes slowly slip away?

Craig didn't look hurt now. He looked like a lustful 16 year old, his eyes half open and dazed, his breathing quick little gasps. Sean wanted to push him down on the garage floor and hold him down, trap his upturned wrists in his strong hands, watch him struggle, take what he wanted. He sucked in his breath, fighting with his desire to dominate.

He didn't know what it was about Craig. He at once wanted to hurt him and protect him. He wanted to be so tender and kiss every hurt, past and present, away. He wanted to force him to his will, invade him in places that would be on the razor edge of pleasure and pain. He wanted to hear him beg him to stop, hear the soft and desperate "no," and see in his eyes a kind of giving up, giving in.

Craig leaned in again for another round of kissing, and he felt his hands slide from his inner thighs back to his knees, and he felt his soft tongue, that insistent little bit of pressure. Sean slid his hands as far down Craig's back as he could reach and pulled him closer, the kiss getting deeper.

Where would they go from here? Sean closed his eyes and couldn't begin to wonder. How would school be now? He knew they wouldn't do anything at school, knew they couldn't risk their macho images, couldn't put themselves in the same category as Marco. But that was fine. He didn't want the whole school to know his secret desires, didn't want to parade around with him like he had with Emma and Ellie. In a way Emma and Ellie had become like something he wore, something for everyone to see and admire. Maybe with Craig he didn't need that, didn't want that. Maybe this was just for them.

Still, he felt that skittish bird part of Craig preventing him from doing much more than kissing and rubbing his hands on his major muscle groups. He didn't know what Craig wanted or how far he was willing to go.

He felt the soft pulse on the side of Craig's neck, felt the silky smoothness of his hair. Whatever the limits were he was willing to respect them. Whatever he got he was willing to take. He kissed him again like drinking cool water, his thirst never slackened but maybe satisfied.


	9. Chapter 9

It was getting colder in the garage as night set in, and Sean knew he had to go. He stood up and so did Craig, and Craig was so much taller than he was. He looked up and Craig tilted his head down to him and kissed him again.

"Bye," he said, his voice thick, and he let himself out into the cool night, walked home with his hands shoved in his pockets.

In his apartment, watching T.V. but not really seeing it, not comprehending it, he thought about what he would do now. It was like it had been a secret from himself, how much he had missed Craig and wanted what he wanted. Now that secret was out. Now he knew why he had felt so pulled toward him in grade eight, why he had wanted to go to British Columbia with him when he asked.

He shifted his weight on the couch, pushed aside the empty bowls of macaroni and cheese. He felt like it would only be these secret kisses with Craig, these clandestine moments. He wouldn't really let him in, the same way he had excluded him in grade eight after while. When he didn't need him anymore. Maybe he wasn't so much okay with that anymore. He wasn't just a savior, a superhero who swooped in for a time of need. He wanted to be there when there was no need, when days were normal and laid back, when there was no crisis.

It was weird. Why was it only Craig that he responded to this way? The thought of any other guy was repulsive to him, but not Craig. There was something about that pleading, desperate look in his eyes, something about the silkiness of his hair, the color of his eyes, the timbre of his voice.

He fell asleep in front of the T.V. still puzzling over it, and he wasn't even aware that his thoughts had shifted from consciousness to the subconscious of his dreams.

In school the next day he felt quiet, almost expectant. He wanted to see Craig, and he saw him in the morning, his baggy faded jeans dragging on the ground around the converse sneakers, his bag slung over his shoulder. He felt nervous, felt his stomach fluttering, felt his mouth watering. He saw his lips, luscious and full, and he licked his own.

"Dude, what is with you?" Jay said, snapping him out of his hazy daydream.

"Huh? Uh, nothing,"

"Really?" Jay said, smirking. Jay was much smarter than his grades would indicate, than his behavior would indicate. Sean knew this about him. He knew how insightful Jay could be, how he could pick up in an instant if something was preoccupying you.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sean said, and shook his head as if that could help clear it. He saw Craig heading inside, saw the back of his leather jacket and the bottom of his sneakers as he walked away, swallowed by the school, and all that was left was the shine of the glass door, reflecting the sky back to him.

He had shop to look forward to, and that was it. This wasn't working so well for him. His infatuation with Craig was like a shiny ball for his mind to roll around out of boredom. A few kisses didn't mean anything. He followed Jay inside and up to their lockers, the scowl deepening on his face. What were they doing? They were hardly talking to each other at school. What was this leading to? Or away from? It was starting to make his head hurt and he wanted to stop thinking about it. What could he do about it, anyway?

Shop class time, the one class that he felt comfortable in, where there were no tricks. It seemed that English class was just tricks, the characters in the books and stories saying one thing but meaning another. In shop class an engine would act and react the same way every time. There were different conditions that could change the reaction, but that had rules, physics, science. It was predictable, as opposed to everything else.

"Hey, man," Craig said from behind him, putting his hand on his shoulder. Sean could feel his touch burning through the material of his work overalls. His breath caught in his throat and his scowl deepened.

"Hi," he said.


End file.
